


dirt castles

by saltyhealer



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyhealer/pseuds/saltyhealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dirt castles and rythian being a pouty baby: the fanfiction</p>
            </blockquote>





	dirt castles

He doesn’t _miss_ her.

Missing someone implies that he cared about her in some way which is entirely untrue. He’s been alone before and this is no different.

Rythian stares hard at the stone of the keep. It’s musty, and he can see a spider starting to spin a web. _Maybe_ the castle’s fallen into a bit of disrepair but it’s not because he _misses_ her, it’s only because he’s been really busy with important things. Magical things.

Rythian glares at the spider. The spider continues to spin a web and ignores the mage moping in the corner.

Rythian’s hands twitch and he looks at the dirt his hands are covered in. He yelps, jumps back and shakes the dirt out of his hands and gloves before storming off to go do important things like stare forlornly outside at the water. ( ~~and wonder when Zoey might return from the war~~ )

The spider continues to weave.

\--

It has now been a few weeks and Rythian does not _miss_ her.

Maybe he misses Teep. Maybe the dinosaur, a crack shot, someone helpful to have a long to help guard the keep but no not _her_ and her dumb mushrooms and science.

The stone beneath his feet is worn from days of pacing and the library is probably the only place in the whole castle that he still uses. The rest of the castle is getting messy: cobwebs, dust, and piles of dirt are everywhere.

Not the library though. Nope, that’s clean and well used and Rythian likes sitting there and thinking (and falls asleep awkwardly crumpled into a chair because he refuses to use the bedroom).

He folds himself into a chair and plans to fall asleep reading and drags a table over to him and starts reading on transmutation of materials. A torch crackles above him and he glares at it.

Rythian shushes the crackling torch. The torch continues to sputter and ignores the mage moping in a chair.

The man starts to doze in his chair and it’s warm in his little library and stuffy in the most comforting kinds of ways. His mind goes through the complicated incantations and circles and his hands glow with a dark violet light that glows with instability and makes the torch flicker.

When Rythian wakes up, his book is a square of dirt and he immediately straightens from his chair and marches off to go fix up one of his enchanting tables and not get stuck staring at the path to Zoey’s laboratory for a solid hour before moving on.

The torch continues to crackle.

\--

Maybe it’s been a few months by now but Rythian is not paying attention anymore (it’s been at least a couple months because 93 days is more than a few months). No, he does not _miss_ her. She was an apprentice, nothing more. She had betrayed him. She wasn’t here so she didn’t matter. She made sure he slept and that was a waste of time, he’s been awake for four days and he’s gotten so much done.

The air outside is heavy with the promise of rain and Rythian is working fast. His hands glow to keep the area lit and there’s a sword at his side because night has fallen. The lights on his hands are extinguished each time he drives his hand into the dirt. It moulds easily under his hands and the magic and the _dirt_ just feels right, sliding between his hands.

There’s a pile forming in front of the mage and behind him a sound echoes in the night. Rythian puts one hand on his sword, the other readying a spell, and turns to face his opponent, ready to blast them into nothingness. In his pen, Gilbert bumps against the fence, the crunch of the golem’s body on the snow he created makes the mage’s eyebrow twitch.

Rythian considers destroying the snow golem. Gilbert continues to slide around his pen and ignores the mage playing in the dirt.

Turning back to the task at hand, Rythian pounces on the pile with wild abandon and soon his work is finished. Before him is a magnificent castle of dirt (complete with little leaves in the towers as banners) and he puts his hands on his hips, staring proudly at the dirt castle. That is _his_ dirt castle.

And then it starts to rain.

And Rythian stands outside and watches his dirt castle crumble and his hair slides into his eyes and his shoulders slump. It’s a heavy, heavy rain that soaks him to his bone and his hands twitch in irritation but he can’t bring himself to move.

Rythian walks inside his castle to dry off and sit quietly in front of a fireplace and he doesn’t use magic anymore that night and just listens to the rain and falls asleep curled up.

Maybe he does _miss_ her.

The golem continues to crunch in the snow.

 


End file.
